‘Frustrating, isn’t it, tesoro? You can look, but you can’t touch.’

‘I don’t want to touch you.’

‘Liar.’

The soft word sliced through her.

‘But let me tell you this, so that there can be absolutely no misunderstanding. That there will be no more performing for your pleasure. You don’t want me as a husband then you don’t get me at all. None of me.’

It was a depressing way to begin the day, but Justina did her best not to let it show because she knew that streams of D’Arezzo cousins were coming over later. And she wanted to salvage something from this trip. Her relationship with Dante might have taken a nosedive, but she wanted his family to approve of her as a mother, even if it was too much to hope for that they might actually like her.

She was aware that some of the cousins were a little wary around her when they arrived just before lunchtime—but she was also aware they’d been at an impressionable age the last time she’d visited. She’d probably seemed distant to them and, if she was being truthful, she had felt a little distant. She remembered that while she’d been here her management had rung almost non-stop and it had driven Dante to despair. A photographer had even managed to penetrate the grounds of the family estate and a furious Luigi had threatened to punch him, before sending him on his way.

She didn’t miss that side of fame one bit, she realised. The irony was that in many ways she felt much more grounded—and Nico was partly responsible for that. She knew that she would make a better wife now than she would have done at the height of her fame. But she also knew that she couldn’t opt for an empty marriage.

Instead, she did her best to fit in with the family—and to her surprise it proved easier than she had anticipated. But then, it was easy to join in with the general clucking over Nico and agree with the sentiment that he was the most beautiful baby in the world! Quickly she realised the significance of this lusty little boy—the first of a new generation of D’Arezzos.

She’d made the biggest effort of all with Beatrix D’Arezzo—wanting her to know that she would do everything and anything for her beloved grandson. So when it came to leaving Dante’s mother hugged her tightly, with an affection which did not seem feigned and Justina felt unexpectedly choked, having to swallow down an unexpected lump in her throat as their car arrived to take them to the airport.

She felt deflated on the flight back to England, and not just because the D’Arezzo family’s warmth contrasted so bitterly with Dante’s new coolness towards her. Now that nobody else was around he seemed to have dropped his politely solicitous attitude towards her. And that didn’t bode very well for the future, did it? They were both going to have to override their feelings and think of Nico’s welfare.

She stared at him. The plane was lavishly equipped, and he was opposite her, working on a large pile of papers. A lock of black hair had fallen onto his forehead and her fingers itched to brush it away.

‘I think the visit went well,’ she ventured.

He looked up, his eyes focussing on her almost as if he’d forgotten she was there, and Justina found herself reflecting that a look like that could be more hurtful than all the rage in the world.

‘On many levels, yes. I think so, too,’ he agreed.

‘You’ll...you’ll be going back to New York, I suppose?’

At this he pushed away the smooth tablet of his computer and studied her with an odd kind of smile. ‘That’s what you’d like, is it, Justina?’

Justina shrugged. What she’d like would be for him to stop sulking. She wanted things to go back to the way they’d been before he’d spoilt it all by asking her to marry him.

‘I don’t think what I’d like is really relevant,’ she said. ‘I just assumed you’d be going home.’

‘Haven’t you learned by now that it’s never wise to make assumptions when you’re dealing with a D’Arezzo man?’ His voice had deepened to a note of dark silk. ‘As it happens, I won’t be going to New York—no.’

‘You won’t?’ she questioned lightly. ‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m moving to London.’

She blinked. ‘But you work in New York!’

‘These days I can work anywhere. That’s the beauty of modern communication.’

‘But you don’t have anywhere to live! Unless you’re planning on staying at the Vinoly long-term?’

‘A hotel suite is not ideal for a young baby,’ he said. ‘Which is why I intend on buying a house.’

‘You’re what?’

‘With a garden,’ he continued. ‘Somewhere Nico can sit outside in the fresh air during his access visits.’

‘Access visits?’ she whispered.

‘Of course. Or did you think that they were going to be on your territory and on your terms? Oh, you did?’ He gave a disdainful smile as he unclipped his seat belt and stretched out his long legs. ‘You know, for someone who has always accused me of being the ultimate control freak, you’re doing a pretty good impersonation of one yourself, Justina.’

Justina felt spooked. When she’d spoken of access visits back in Tuscany they had been hypothetical. They’d sounded as unthreatening as a dentist’s appointment when you knew it was a whole year away. But this...

Dante was moving to London and he was getting a house!

The child in her wanted to scream. She wanted to tell him that she was scared. Scared he would create a proper home simply because he knew how to and she didn’t. That Nico would grow up preferring to go round to Papa’s, while she...

‘Miss Perry?’

She’d been so lost in her thoughts that Justina hadn’t realised Dante was no longer there. One of the glamorous D’Arezzo stewardesses was standing over her, her perfectly plucked eyebrows raised in question and Justina turned her head just in time to see Dante disappearing into the cockpit. ‘Yes?’

‘Signor D’Arezzo has decided to land the plane himself, so he’s gone in to join the pilot. Would you care to fasten your seat belt?’

Justina felt even more wrong-footed as the stewardess checked that Nico was properly clipped in. What the hell was Dante doing, landing the damned plane? She hadn’t even known he could fly!

She glared as he exited the cockpit after a butter-smooth landing. ‘I suppose you’ve learned to walk on water, too?’ she questioned acidly.

‘Now, now, Justina,’ he chided. ‘Shouldn’t your role be to congratulate me and to tell Nico what a talented daddy he has?’

She didn’t trust herself to answer—just felt an increasing swirl of frustration as they prepared to leave the plane. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be—although when she stopped to think about it what had she imagined would happen? That Dante would just disappear into the ether, only appearing at Christmas and birthdays, with a smile on his face and a gift in his hand?

Even so, they were halfway back to London before she had plucked up enough courage to ask, ‘When do you anticipate moving to London?’

‘Straight away,’ he replied, shrugging his shoulders with the lazy gesture of someone who could afford to do exactly what he wanted. ‘Why wait? I’ve had my people look into availability, and I’m taking a house in Spitalfields which isn’t too far from you. A rather beautiful Georgian house in a glorious green square, as it happens.’ He tapped his finger on his laptop. ‘Would you like to see some photos?’

Justina felt queasy. ‘I’ll pass, thank you.’

Her apartment felt soulless and bare after the faded splendour of the Tuscan palazzo. She stood in the centre of the oatmeal sitting room while Dante put down her suitcase and thought how gorgeous he looked in his dark suit. And about as accessible as a remote and icy mountain peak.

She fiddled with the button of her jacket. ‘Dante?’

He bent to drop one final kiss on top of his sleeping son’s head, unprepared for the savage twist of pain he felt at the thought of having to say goodbye. Straightening up, he looked into her wide amber eyes and felt the twist of something else, too. Did she know how far she had pushed him and how close he was to snapping?